


Time Is On My Side

by jamestkirkesq



Category: H G Wells - The Time Machine
Genre: Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestkirkesq/pseuds/jamestkirkesq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written and uploaded on 20th December 2008... for Yuletide 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Is On My Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSpine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GreenSpine).



> Merry Christmas :-))

My name?

I suppose you could call me The Time Traveller. For that is indeed what I am. But if you prefer, George will do just as well.

Ah good. I see I have your attention.

"Time traveller?" you ask.

Yes, time-traveller... It's a long story, but if you have a little time to spare, I'd be more than happy to tell you about it...

**December 24th 1899 - (1st Time Around)**

"Will you be taking lunch at home today, sir?" asked Mrs Watchett.

"No, Mary;" I answered without looking up from the desk. "I'm planning to work in the laboratory until late afternoon."

I didn't need to see her face to know that she was probably scowling. As she had a habit of doing whenever she was annoyed with me. Which was quite often.

"You really ought not to miss your meals, sir. It isn't good for your constitution. I'll bring a sandwich, and a nice pot of tea downstairs around noon."

"No, no, Mrs Watchett, it's quite alright. I have some important experiments to complete, and I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"Not even for a cup of tea, sir?!"

I lifted my head... to see her, hands on hips... scowling.

I just smiled. "I will of course have my evening meal later, and some of your wonderful tea... if that's ok?"

She shook her head, mumbled something, and marched out of the study.

I turned back to my journal and wrote... 'Today, I will embark upon my first journey... through time.'

Closing the journal, I rose, and made my way downstairs.

**December 31st 1899 - (1st Time Around)**

"It's just too fantastic, George," exclaimed Filby, one of my oldest and dearest friends. "You can't seriously expect me to believe that you've really been to the future?"

"Damn it, David... you of all people. I thought you at least would believe me. Do you think I just made it all up... some fanciful tale ... something I've imagined. Or... do you think I'm lying?"

I could see he was torn...

Torn between our friendship, and his incredulity at the story I'd just related to him.

"Yes, no, I mean... no, not lying... but you must agree that you've been working far too hard lately? You're exhausted. Look at yourself for gods sake... you're a mess, George."

"You think I've had some sort of mental breakdown?" I shouted angrily. "Is that what you're saying?!!!"

He visibly shrank back, shocked by the venom in my voice.

"David, David," I continued in a less aggressive tone. "You have to believe me, I've really been there. I've seen the future, our future, humanity's future."

He picked up my journal, "George, if what you say is true, if you've been there..."

He shook the pages in my face. "If you've been here... then what's the point of anything anymore?... if all the time mankind has left is not much more than a century!"

How could I answer him?

Not only was I asking that he believe that I'd been travelling through time these past few days, but that if he was to believe me, then he would have to face up to the fact that humanity was soon to become nothing more than a fatted-calf; enslaved to creatures without feeling or emotion... heartless, cold, alien beings, without a shred of compassion.

As we stood facing each other, I saw in his eyes that it wasn't that he didn't believe me.

He just didn't want to. And I couldn't blame him. Would I in his situation?

He placed the journal on my desk; a sadness about him that I'd never seen before. I felt a terrible guilt for having been the cause.

"David," I called after him as walked towards the door. "David, if..."

"No, George," he spoke softly without looking back. "I don't want to hear any more."

As I watched him go I inwardly cursed the damn time machine.

What had it brought me?

Nothing!!!

Nothing but a hellish, nightmare vision of the future. A future in which mankind would be ground face-down into the dirt. A future where all our works, and achievements, all our noble aspirations, all our hopes and dreams... would be as naught. Wiped from the face of the Earth in the blinking of an eye.

Yes, what had that damn contraption brought me... what had it lost me, what had it cost me?

Perhaps, in this moment, here and now... my closest, and most dear friend.

**January 5th 2009 - (109 years in the future)**

"What chance have we got? What's the point?" asked the man, "We threw everything we had at them, didn't even make a dent."

My companion I'd learned was a Captain in the Army. Or at least he had been before he'd deserted. He'd seen first-hand, up close, the power of the alien invaders. As for me, I'd only seen them at a distance. But from what I had witnessed I could well understand his despondence. But not his lay-down and die attitude.

"The point is," I said angrily, "we have to keep on fighting. If we just give up then it it'll be all over."

"Yeah," he answered, "you're right. But not...  _will be_ all over...  _it is_  all over!"

The look in his eyes said it all. There was no point in arguing with him. The man was in shock. Shell shock as they called it here in my future.

I left him, and keeping to the woods, headed southward. Why I went south I don't now. It just seemed as good a direction as any. After about an hour I heard voices a little way ahead; human voices. Slowly, cautiously I homed in towards them.

"Not very good at it are you?"

I spun around, heart pounding, "Christ!" I cried out as the owner of the voice, which had almost given me a heart attack, stepped towards me.

"James Welles," he said extending his hand, "Engineer."

Catching my breath, I muttered, "George Orson."

He looked at me quizzically, as though waiting for me to say more.

"Oh, right," I said, realizing what he was asking, "I'm a scientist."

"Scientist?" he pressed, "Of what?"

"Physics," I replied, "and other stuff."

"Good," said Welles, "We need people like you. I hope you're a lot better at the science than you are at ambushing. Heard you coming a mile off."

He laughed then said, "Come on, let me introduce you to the motley crew."

**February 2nd 2009**

A month, that's all it took. One goddamn month. One month for the invaders to completely bring humanity to its knees. A month in which I'd come to know Jimmy and his motley band of rebels. A month in which we fought against the aliens as best we could. A month in which I watched all my new friends give their lives, trying to make a difference. In the end... it didn't make the slightest bit of difference.

The Captain I'd met had been right. It had been all over; over before it had even begun. It was just that back then, some of us didn't know it. But, by god, we knew it now. Those of us that were still alive that is.

A month... that's all it took... 30 days to wipe out thousands of years of culture, and progress ... and arrogance.

**December 24th 1899 - (2nd Time Around)**

"Will you be taking lunch at home today, sir?" asked Mrs Watchett.

"Yes, Mary, indeed, I will" I smiled, "I'm just going to relax, wile away the hours... kill some time."

She smiled approvingly, "No experiments then, sir?"

"No Mrs Watchett. No more experiments, ever. I've decided to concentrate on my writing from now on."

"That's good, sir," she agreed. " I'll bring you a sandwich, and some tea around noon."

"Thank you Mary."

**December 31st 1899 - (2nd Time Around)**

"That's fantastic, George," exclaimed Filby, "What a truly wonderful story. A very dark and frightening vision of the future, but wonderfully entertaining."

"Thank you, David, I was hoping you'd like it."

He picked up the manuscript...

"Dedicated to James Welles. He's one of the characters in the story, right, George?"

"Yes."

"Strange dedication if you don't mind me saying."

"No, not so strange, David." I smiled.

He looked at me curiously, then shrugged, and began reading the opening chapter out loud...

"No one would have believed in the last years of the twentieth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences far greater than our own.

That as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were being scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.

With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe, going about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their dominion over nature.

And yet, across the vast gulf of space, minds that are to our minds, as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes.

And slowly, surely, they drew their plans against us.

And early in the twenty-first century, they finally came."

"I must say, you have a very fanciful imagination, George. I could never think up anything like that, never in a million years."

If only he knew, I thought to myself. If only.

"What are you going to call it?"

"The War Of The Worlds."

David pondered a moment. "Yes, I like that... a good title."

He placed the manuscript back on the desk, "Five minutes to go, George, don't you think we...?"

"Of course," I laughed as I moved over to the drinks cabinet and poured out two large glasses of scotch. We'd been so engrossed in discussing the book that we'd almost missed the hour. Missed the coming of the New Year. Indeed, the coming of the New Century.

Handing David his drink, I was happy that this time around he would never know the truth. This time around, he would be content, without the knowledge of what the future held for mankind.

The old town clock began to strike the first chime...

"To the future, George," smiled David raising his glass, "To lasting friendship"

"To the future, my friend." I smiled back as we clinked our glasses together.

" For old times' sake," David grinned as the clock tower struck midnight, "Happy New Year, George."

"Happy New Century, David."

As we toasted-in the new era, I was content that this time around I had lost nothing. Since that first December 31, I'd finally come to realize that it's not the future that matters, but the present.

And as for that dark future I'd seen. Well, who's to say?

Maybe the future isn't written in stone after all.

Maybe mankind would prevail.

Time alone would tell.

And just then, in that instant, I had a new ending to my manuscript. One where the alien invaders would ultimately fail. One in which, not Man... not I, nor my friend Jimmy, but the lowliest of God's creatures, would be the saviours of humanity.

But that, is another ending, for another day.

 


End file.
